


Cobwebs

by Redlance



Series: Tangled Webs [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, spider-man au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 20:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redlance/pseuds/Redlance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for me to hang (I'm sorry, I'll stop) all the Spider-Beca one-shots I've been writing over on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : This one you might have read already over in Riff Offs. Inspired by Elizabeth Bank's commentary on the tent scene. And the fact that [bechloe88](http://bechloe88.tumblr.com) came screaming at me to write this. So. Yeah. This one is for you again, asshole. =P 
> 
> **A/N 2** : Not all necessarily linear or connected.

* * *

Chloe Beale knows better. Knows this town like the back of her hand. Knows the quickest route to the theatre just like she knows when to avoid fifty-fifth. Just like she knows  **not** to venture down back alleys after dark. Or before dark for that matter. This part of town was pretty sketch no matter the time of day.

 

So, when she hears a low whistle bouncing off the damp brick of the alley walls, her hand freezes where it's searching for her keys in her bag and for an instant, her eyes flutter shut.

 

“Looks like we're getting delivery tonight, boys.” When she looks up, she finds that there are four of them in total, all tall and scruffy. A heavy, sick feeling sends her heart sinking towards her stomach, but she gathers her confidence as her fingertips finally graze the metal of a keyring and she pulls them out of her bag, letting it fall to sway by its strap alongside her hip. “I should warn you though,” this directed at Chloe, who closes her hand around her keys and levels her gaze at the man, “we don't tip.”

 

“No worries.” Although her voice trembles slightly, she's impressed by how sure of herself she sounds. “You couldn't afford me anyway.” He doesn't seem to appreciate her sentiment. His mouth twists into a snarl and neither he nor the men around him waste any time in advancing on her.Thunder rumbles over head and the heavens open to drip fat drops of rain against cracked cement.

 

The tendrils of fear working their way through her with chilly unease tighten around her muscles, making it difficult for her to move, and she almost trips backwards when she tries to turn and run, only to find her way blocked by one of the men. He grins down at her, the sickly orange-yellow floodlight shining down on them from the building opposite illuminating the stains on his teeth.

 

“Look, just,” she offers her bag to him, bare arms slick with rain and t-shirt starting to steadily soak through, “you can have everything in here. I don't want any trouble.” He reaches towards her and she feels adrenaline race along her spine.

 

“I don't need your permission.” He growls. “If I want something, I take it.” His fingers, boney and dirty, snake around the strap of her bag and tug. Chloe's expression hardens in the blink of an eye and as he tugs, so does she, pulling him into her. She digs the point of her car key into his stomach as she drives a knee into his groin. He drops like a sack of bricks, hitting the ground and sending water flying as he lands face first in a puddle that had started to form. She feels a rush of air at her back, like someone running at her, and spins in time to see the man who'd first spoken to her doing just that.

 

_**THWIP!!** _

 

But he doesn't make it to her.

 

_**SWIK!!** _

 

His arms are still reaching forwards when he's yanked back violently away from Chloe, who watches as he sails through the air and crashes into the side of a large metal garbage can sitting at the back door of Ling Foo's Chinese restaurant. He hits it so hard that the metal dents and he falls into an unconscious, crumpled heap at the foot of it. The two goons still standing stare at their fallen comrade, but Chloe can tell they still haven't caught on to what's happening.

 

But she has.

 

Chloe knows.

 

And so, she waits for it.

 

_**THWIP!!** _

 

Sinewy, almost iridescent strands of what can only be described as webbing catch the raindrops as they shoot out from one shadowy corner of the buildings bracketing the alley, sending a thrill through Chloe, wild and vibrant. And in that instant, she knows she's safe. Knows, without a doubt, that she's going to be okay. The web, each silky strand coalescing into one impossibly strong length of something like rope, fans out at the end and stickily covers the tallest man's face. His hands go up to try and tear the substance from his skin, but Chloe spies a movement overhead and despite her situation, her lips curve into a smirk. She watches as the lithe body flips off the side of one building, throwing out a free arm and shooting a second web, anchoring them to the opposite side and pulling their body over. Meanwhile the other hand, still holding one end of the web attached to the man's face, rides the tailwind of their body and tugs the man half way along the wet street before a flick of both hands sends him somersaulting up, then down hard into the ground. That's when the last man is finally brought up to speed and he makes a break from the mouth of the alley, spraying Chloe's lower half with rain water as he whips by her.

 

Above and behind her, something lands lightly against the fire exit walkway of the building and she looks back to find a figure of shadowed red and blue perched on the railing, forearm poised, aiming their hand.

 

“Oh, no you don't.” The now familiar voice carries over the rain that's pounding hard against the pavement, and with one final 'thwip' the retreating coward finds himself snared by first one, then two separate lines of webbing. Chloe watches, riveted, as her masked saviour wraps an end around each hand once for added leverage, then leaps high into the air. Taking the man up with them, the costumed hero plants a foot against the brick facade of the building opposite and then pushes off towards Chloe's side again. The man shrieks as he's held in midair, while the hero takes their time fastening the web ends to a long length of wire stretched between the buildings, before back-flipping off the wall, twirling legs sending raindrops in all directions and letting him fall. “Take five.” He screams and it catches painfully when the web unexpectedly pulls taught to leave him hanging.

 

Chloe watches the figure land in the middle of the alley, sees them spare a glance at the man still groaning and clutching his groin before spitting out three balls of webbing that trap his hands, feet and muffle his cries. Then they're aiming high above Chloe, shooting with both hands and then launching themselves up into the shadows. She cranes her head back, blinking against the rain and slowly turning on the spot, searching the darkness.

 

“You're really good at getting into trouble, you know that?” With a gasp that carries over half the statement, Chloe spins to find herself face to face with her rescuer. Lithe indeed, but shorter than she'd expected, body toned and tiny. Even when danging upside down.

 

“And y **ou** are an exceptionally skilled stalker.” The hands clenched the length of webbing shift and grasp without reason at the teasing accusation. The material of the costume looks like it would be soft to touch and a stylized black spider stretches across an ample bosom that rises and falls with little exertion. The white eyes of the mask don't give much away in regard to the eyes that lie underneath, but whenever Chloe looks at them, she knows that they're always looking back.

 

“Dude, no. I was just, I was in the neighbourhood.” Even from fifty feet up. She can always feel them on her. “Seriously though, I think you should start considering just staying home. Order in. Watch some trashy T.V.” Chloe grins and pushes wet curls back from her face.

 

“But then how would I get to see you?” The masked head before her tilts to one side and Chloe bites her lip, because she'd love to see the expression being aimed at her right now. And she wonders if this town's resident superhero gets this a lot, the playful flirting, because every time they run into one another it's right there. As easy as it was the last time and just waiting to be picked back up.

 

“Maybe I could start making house calls.” The voice is muffled by the mask, but Chloe loves the sound of it regardless. The snark and sarcastic edge to it.

 

“You'd do that for lil' old me?” She wrinkles her nose as she asks, a single drop of rain running along the length of it and then leaping from the tip. Her hero shrugs and the motion looks odd upside down. Chloe wonders how long she can hold the positioning for, feet looped around the web she's grasping with both hands.

 

“Just because everyone around here **thinks** I'm an asshole, that doesn't mean I actually am one.” Chloe furrows her brow and takes a step forward, conscious of the splash her foot makes against the puddles that are slowly converging into a small river.

 

“I think you're amazing.” She does and she'll tell anyone who dares try to say otherwise. Because the low, derisive hum that leaves the woman who has just saved Chloe's life makes the redhead feel desperately sad.

 

“Glad I've got someone on my side.” And the quiet note of gratitude in the voice breaks her heart. “Thank you.”

 

And this isn't the first time they've been somewhere like this, together. This isn't the first time that the 'Masked Menace' has saved her life. Isn't the first time Chloe's felt this irrefutable pull to a person she barely even knows and yet feels so undeniably connected to. Feels like she understands, like she 'gets'. And Chloe finds it easy to talk to almost anyone, with the exception of the idiots strewn about the alley around her and similar such scumbags, but – and this isn't the first time she's thought this – she's sure that it shouldn't be **this** easy to talk to a perfect stranger with a penchant for wearing tights, who keeps saving her life. Yet somehow, it is.

 

She steps closer and lifts her hands towards the masked marvel who's developing a habit of swinging into her dreams.

 

“Do I get to say thank you this time?” And she smiles as her fingers find the seam where the mask meets the neck of the costume and slips beneath. A sharp inhale serves as her answer and pulls anticipation through her like a needle weaving thread. Slowly, pale skin is revealed, smooth and soft looking. Then the line of a jaw and the rounded edge of earlobes. The curve of a mouth that parts in surprise.

 

“Wait...” Chloe pauses, pulling in one shallow breath after another as she watches that mouth move for the first time. Watches the way it forms the letters and brings the word to life. She sees dark hair tucked into the back of the costume and feels her fingers itch to touch it. Her own lips shift into a smirk.

 

“I promise I'll be gentle.” Instead she presses the heels of her hands to the sides of her hero's face and leans in to catch lips that are damp from the rain but warm from the mask. And Chloe sighs so heavily into the kiss that she hears it echoed.

 

All around them, the sky sheds its tears as thunders rolls, and Chloe parts the other woman's lips as lightning streaks through the clouds. Her fingertips brush along the column of a neck as her tongue is met stroke for lazy stroke and her heart hammers inside her chest. Unable to contain her growing smile, Chloe's teeth graze a full lip and she almost stumbles backward when her dangling hero's grip slips and she slides down an inch or two.

 

“Jesus.” She barks, but she's chuckling, albeit a little ruefully. Chloe steps away with her fingers pressed to her lips as the other woman tugs her mask back into place with a shake of her head. “You are... something else.” Chloe feels giddy at the sound of her voice; heavy and breathless, pitted with disbelieving humour.

 

With another flick of her wrist and a second hastily shot web, the woman is pulling herself skyward and out of Chloe's reach.

 

And Chloe is laughing towards the blackened sky as rain dances off her skin and slides over her lips.

 

“Thank you!” She calls out, beaming like she isn't soaked to the bone.

 

Then, after a handful of seconds.

 

“You're welcome!” It's more distant, maybe coming from the rooftop this time. “Now go home!”

 

Chloe laughs again.

 

She really can't wait for that home visit.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Written as a response to someone who enjoyed how awkward Beca still was as a superhero.

* * *

“Citizens!” Behind the mask, she blinks wide eyes as they flit from face to face. There are too many people, way too many people, the Vulture could swoop in at any second and pick them off like fish in a barrel. And she gets it, people with super-human abilities and the general mayhem of a good versus evil throw down is enticing. Exciting. But for once, Beca really wishes they’d all just go home and sit behind their computers and wait for this to be uploaded to youtube, because she can’t possibly guarantee the safety of every person here. Especially when half of them aren’t even looking at her. “Um, hey! You guys!” Movements jerky with uncertainty, she raises her arms above her head and waves her hands to get their attention. When more than a dozen pairs of eyes are on her, her hands freeze in midair for a few seconds before she balls them into fists and drops them back down to her sides. “Uh, hi.” Her voice cracks a little and she’s never been more glad to be wearing a mask. She clears her throat, propping her fists on her hips and shoving as much authority into her voice as she can manage. “Hello! Look. I understand that you’re all,” her feet shuffling across the top of the police car she’s perched on, “super excited by this. Who wouldn’t be? It’s pretty cool, right? Spider-chick, bird-man, not the kind of thing you see every day.” She catches a few people in the crowd frowning at her and feels her insides twist. She really hates public speaking. “But I was sort of hoping you guys could like… go home?” A low murmur of muddled voices rises up from the crowd and Beca lifts her gloves hands as though to keep any physical manifestations of their displeasure at bay. “Not that I’m not seriously stoked about the support!” Inwardly she cringes, because you never hear Batman or any of The Avengers saying “stoked” and oh my god, what is she? She lets out a loud, nervous laugh. “You are here to support me, right?” Someone in the crowd yells out in the affirmative and she points a finger in their direction. “Alright! Awesome! Okay, so, I really need you to either just go home or, or even maybe hide out in a store or something? I just don’t want the big green birdman to get his talons on any you because, well. We’ve all seen what happens then.” She tilts her masked head to the side and hopes that the action conveys the remorse of her statement.

 

 

 

“Great ready to see it again, Spider-Hag!” A voice screeches from overhead and Beca and the crowd collectively turn their gazes skyward in time to see the Vulture plummeting towards them from a building top. A man shrieks, a woman screams, and then all hell breaks loose. Beca’s hands go to her head before she remembers her hair is tucked away. People scatter in all directions and she calls back to the police officers behind her, telling them to get the people to safety and that she’ll take care of the flying rat. Then she’s aiming both hands at a tenth storey window across the street and-

 

 

 

_**THWIP!!** _

 

 

 

Twisting her web around her wrists, she pulls back until she’s at the edge of the police car roof and then launches herself into the air. She collides with the Vulture seconds before he reaches the fleeing crowd, tackling him into the side of the building she’d been aiming for. He grunts and she catches herself against brick with a hand and a foot, swinging aside to let him fall to the ground below.

 

 

 

“Who you calling ‘hag’, bird-brain?” She yells down at him, then pushes off the wall, somersaulting her way into a perfect landing against his shoulder blades.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of backstory.

* * *

I've lived next to Chloe Beale since I was six. She was the only bright spot in my day even back then. Which, I know, super lame, right? But it's true. I remember walking up the driveway to my dad's house, pulling this little blue suitcase that was covered in stickers behind me. And the concrete of the driveway had this huge crack running through it – one my dad fixed after he got tenure – and my stupid case wheels got stuck. I was so tired from flying and it was basically full of my Mom's old forty-fives and nothing else, so it was heavy. Anyway, I couldn't get it over the lip of this stupid crack and I had to call for my dad to stop to come back down and help me. He left the other case – filled with the rest of my more useful stuff – standing on its wheels and lifted mine like it didn't weigh anything at all. I remember thinking how strong he must have been to do that.

 

I remember being irrationally jealous of that strength.

 

I remember wishing my Mom could have been that strong. That maybe then, she wouldn't have died and I wouldn't have had to move half way across the country to live with my dad who I hardly ever saw except for every other Christmas and sometimes my birthday. And I remember this huge sense of sadness pressing down against my already sagging shoulders.

 

Then I looked up to follow my Dad. Only to spot fiery red hair and bright blue eyes peaking over the sill of an open, second floor window at me. When our gazes met, I saw them – her – straighten and smile at me, lifting a hand above the windowsill to throw me a wave. So cheerful and friendly, but I was six-years-old and my Mom had just died, so I didn't wave back. I didn't smile. I just furrowed my tiny little eyebrows and looked away to catch up to my dad.

 

And of course, that sealed it for Chloe. I couldn't know then, but I'd come to find out that my new neighbour would take that first meeting as kind of a calling. One that would take many, many years to fulfil, but not once did Chloe ever seem deterred.

 

Not once did she sway from her mission to befriend me.

 

Chloe's so freaking weird.  


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Beca **isn't** following her.

 

That's not what's happening here.

 

That would be weird and creepy, and a total abuse of her powers.

 

Right?

 

Right.

 

So she isn't following her.

 

Even if that is exactly what it looks like. As she crawls her way along the roof tops and leaps over the gaps between the buildings, always moving in the same direction as her. Never falling so far behind that she loses sight of fiery red hair being tousled by the wind.

 

The material of her suit stretches with her every movement and it feels good, but it also feels like she's kind of naked. So that's pretty weird. It fits nicely though and the mask breathes better than she thought it would. She'd been on her way to take the suit out for a test swing when she'd spotted Chloe making her way along the street, book bag slung over her shoulder. Halfway through wondering if the redhead was headed to the library, Beca was tugging herself around by a web and **not** following her.

 

Would it be that creepy really though, even if she was? It's edging towards the evening and that's when all the insects come out of the woodwork. Would it really be so wrong of her to want to keep an eye on Chloe? Isn't that the friendly, neighbourly thing to do?

 

She trails along the rooftops, mindful of her visibility and the people milling about below, and when Chloe stops at the crosswalk outside of their local coffee shop, Beca smiles behind her mask.

 

Chloe **is** going to the library.

 

She rests gloves hands against the low wall that circles the edge of the rooftop and provides a decent amount of cover. The eyes of the mask are large but reflective, meaning no one can see in and her range of vision is pretty awesome.

 

Which is exactly why she spots it.

 

Him.

 

Working his way down the street that Chloe is about to cross, towering over people and delivery trucks like something out of a nineteen-fifties horror flick. She hears the screams of the people that have noticed him, but those directly below her don't have the hearing she does, and for an instant she's frozen. Watching as his extra metal limbs carry him along, effortlessly turning over a car that dares to get in his way as he reaches the edge of the intersection.

 

Chloe's intersection.

 

Chloe who, by the time Beca can tear her white, almond-shaped eyes away from the monster man, has obviously noticed his presence and is staring at his approach in stunned shock as the people around her start to shriek and flee in terror.

 

Pieter Kramer had been a much celebrated figure in the world of robotics—and weirdly, modern dance—until a freak accident had caused his latest invention to "act out of turn" and fling half of his sponsors out of a twenty-first floor window. At least, that's what he had claimed in the beginning. But then his funding had been pulled and his dance studio refused to renew his contract once it had run its course, and Pieter just lost it.

 

Like really, really lost it. In a full-on, crazy, "my metal arms are now a part of me because I have nothing else" kind of way. And it would be sad if he wasn't so effing dangerous and hellbent on destruction. He also struck Beca as kind of an arrogant asshole – because hey, it's kind of her job now to learn about these mad scientist-turned-villains and she knows how to work YouTube – which makes it easier for her to feel less bad and more ass-kicky.

 

She watches Chloe take off, headed for the library building amidst a handful of others and then pushes out a breath as she stands from her crouched position. It's not as though anyone knows it's her beneath the skin-tight red and blue, but there's still an immense sense of nervousness because what if she messes this up somehow? What if she swings in there only to get her scrawny ass handed to her by a dude who looks like a bionic insect? Those are the kind of cool points you can't always get back once you've lost them.

 

“ _Okay. Yeah. Okay, you're totally fine. You're_ _cool. Super cool._ _ **Frosty**_ _.”_ She sighs with a shake of her head. _“Okay, let's no_ _t... say_ _that again.”_

 

The sound of shrieking metal pulls Beca out of her thoughts and she looks up in time to see Doctor Octopus, as she's taken to calling him in her head – the dude has eight appendages, he's brought this upon himself – bending a street lamp in half with one of his metal arms while waving his other five in the air as he raves about something she can't quite make out. His accent is really thick, okay? The shrieking stops and Beca sees the post literally rip in half, then he's hauling it up over his head and Beca's off.

 

She lifts an arm and feels a thread of webbing shoot free at the curl of her two middle fingers, loosed by the tensing of the muscle that the action causes. She twists her hand around and catches the end of it, giving the line one firm tug before leaping off the edge of the roof.

 

She can't exactly feel the breeze in her hair, but it's still pretty freaking awesome. Whipping by her face as she swings down and around, stretching her legs out and letting her lips curl into a grin beneath the mask as she clocks Pieter's eyes widening right before her feet hit his face.

 

“That's right!” She calls out, sending him back and swinging under the lamppost as he drops it. “Totally a human spider kicking you in the face.” She spins in midair, shooting a web towards the nearest building to anchor herself and then another to the makeshift missile, slowing it before it can do any damage. “Although,” she's swings gently backwards towards the building, bracing herself with a foot against it's side as rests the post against the ground, muscles barely straining against the weight. “Not really. Because that's kind of a weird mental image?” Her eyes flick over to where Doc Oc is shaking off the cobwebs – _“Insert rim-shot here.”_ – and preparing to stand. “I swear, I don't look that messed up under here.” She gestures to herself as she hops off the side of the building and starts walking towards him. “You on the other hand...” she flicks her wrists and spits out two separate balls of webbing, capturing two of his pincers and tethering them with a line of web that she uses to yank him backwards, “well,” he stumbles and she spits another two balls towards the cement to trap the ends of the webbing there and hold him in place. “Honestly? I've seen car commercials that were scarier than you.”

 

“Who in the hell are you?!” He roars, twisting his head around to look at her as he tries to pull his arms free, but she's already moved onto his others and soon enough all four of them are stuck to the ground and he's gone really red in the face.

 

“ **I** am,” she pauses for a beat, twisting her face beneath the mask, “I have this crazy urge to say 'your worst nightmare', but that's like, really super lame.” The people that had been running for their lives only moments ago have all sort of stopped to watch the interaction and Beca is suddenly aware of a hundred pairs of eyes on her. Hot and heavy.

 

And that's when she sees Chloe.

 

Who isn't in the library at all, but is actually standing in the crowd that's gathered, staring at her with wide eyes and parted lips. For a few heartbeats, Beca is dumbstruck. Utterly and completely, in a way that's going to make her feel so stupid later. Because in that instant, she's just like everyone else at her stupid high school; fawning over the glory that is Chloe Beale.

 

And so what.

 

It's no big deal.

 

It's whatever.

 

She throws out an arm and sends a web up towards a lamp post Pieter didn't pull down. She springs forward and, with a hidden smirk, decides to show off a little.

 

She swings in a circle around him, alternating between hands as she spins web after web around his middle until he's wrapped in a cocoon of the stuff. Then she kicks her legs up to thrown herself into a high back-flip, landing on top of the post Pieter's trapped beneath.

 

"Das auto **that** , bitch." She resists the urge to snap her fingers. Tilting her head to look down at him, she tries not to laugh when she sees the way the veins in his neck are standing out in purple lines against the red of his skin.

 

It's kind of fun, making bad guys look like idiots.

 

Doesn't hurt when there are pretty girls in the audience either. Pretty girls who are staring at her like she's some kind of God.

 

But then someone starts screaming again, yelling about “He's getting loose!” and Beca's attention drops back to Doc Oc so fast she thinks she might have given herself whiplash.

 

“You **dare**!! You think you can stop me?! No one can stop the great Pieter Kramer!!” And now he's raving. Great. One of his arms comes free with the sound of cracking cement and Beca's entire world slows down as she watches him haul the concrete slab up into the air and toss it carelessly into the crowd.

 

Towards Chloe.

 

She's moving faster than her mind can process. Screaming for people to move, to get to somewhere safe, and she sees Chloe take off running. Beca swings up behind her and then with a whoosh of air and an uninhibited shriek of surprise from the redhead, she's gathered her up in an arm and is carrying her towards the rooftops just as the chunk of pavement slams into the building. Chloe's bright blue eyes are the size of saucers as they stare at her masked profile and Beca can hear her heart hammering in her ears. The arms wrapped around her hold tight and the one Beca has wound around Chloe's back holds her as close as she can without crushing her.

 

Chloe doesn't say anything.

 

Beca wonders if that's because she **can't**.

 

She swings until they're a safe distance away and Beca lands them both safely on the rooftop of their local newspaper headquarters. Chloe slowly pulls away from her, taking a step back, and Beca reaches a hand up and around to rub at the back of her neck before holding it out towards the redhead.

 

“Just... stay here.” Altering her voice doesn't cross her mind, she only thinks of it later when she's dodging one of five punches being thrown at her simultaneously and hopes the mask is enough to change the sound of it. “I'll come back for you.” Then she's swan diving off the side of another building, like this is becoming her new 'thing', and heading back into the melee.

 

She doesn't really expect Chloe to still be there when she returns, looking a little worse for wear after her first real fight but victorious nonetheless.

 

But she is. Sitting beside the roof access door with her legs pulled up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees.

 

She doesn't really expect Chloe to smile like **that** when she sees her from behind white, almond eyes. But Chloe does.

 

She doesn't expect there to be any kind of playful conversation.

 

_"So what **do** you go by? Spider-Man? Spider-Woman?"_

 

_"As long as it's not 'Spider-Bitch', they can call me whatever the hell they want. I'm not really into labels."_

 

_"Hmm. Good to know."_

 

But there is.

 

Because it's Chloe.

 

And Beca should know that expectations usually end up flipped on their head when it comes to her.

 

She's already turned huge parts of Beca's life upside down.

 

What's one more?


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

It's after eight when she tells her dad she's leaving for the library. He does a double take, eyeing the backpack she has slung over one shoulder, the strap of which she's holding in a loose grip. This isn't the first time she's thrown the studying excuse at him, but he reacts the same way whenever she does. Like his daughter has been replaced with a pod-person who has secret ulterior motives and sure, okay, so like half of that is true. It doesn't stop her from kicking up at fuss when he gives her that **look** though. She likes playing the offended teenager card anyway, it's like the one time she and Shelia every really agree on anything. That, in this case, being that her dad needs to chill and not do such a bang up job of impersonating a paranoid parent.

 

What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?

 

She pretends not to hear him when he calls after her, telling her to be home by eleven, and she lets the front door of the house fall heavily closed behind her.

 

The truth, of course, is that she isn't actually going to the library. Yes, she might be heading that way, but it's only to keep up appearances. Because it would look a little more than suspicious if she swung out of her bedroom window and onto Chloe's rooftop in full costume.

 

It's getting dark, the sky overhead a patchwork of pinks and oranges, and Beca waits for the little walking man to appear before crossing the street. The people around her don't notice her, they go about their business, engrossed in their cellphones as they poorly navigate the sidewalks and she shifts the bag higher onto her shoulder, clutching the strap more firmly as she weaves between them. She doesn't get shoulder-checked anymore and the thought makes her smile as she takes a sharp turn into an alley between Pete's Pizza and a dingy cigar shop that always smells, well, like cigars.

 

She likes this alleyway. It's dark and it dead ends, and there's a dumpster for her to change behind but no door leading into either building that she needs to worry about. She just has to keep an eye on the mouth of alley and she's good. A little less than dignified, but good. Because no one can really look all that suave while hopping around on one foot, trying to pull on tights that act like a second skin. The top goes on easier and she pulls the cutoff hoodie out of her bag before stuffing her street clothes in through the opening. She stretches into it, feeling the strange sense of comfort wash over her as it settles over her chest, and zips her bag closed. She swings it up onto her shoulder again and with one fluid motion, leaps into the air and onto the side of the building that hosts the cigar shop. Hidden by the shadows, Beca crawls up towards one dark corner and webs her bag safely into the space, holding and hiding it until she can return and change back.

 

She curls her hands over the side of the rooftop and slowly flips herself up, landing in a couched position on all fours.

 

“ _I wonder how ethically immoral it would be for me to enter the Olympics.”_ She ponders, crawling over to the edge at the front of the store and peering over. A handful of cars drive by, one honking at a pedestrian who waves at the unseen driver and holding Beca's attention for a moment. Then she sets her sights across the rooftops, in the direction where she knows Chloe's house to be. With a steadying exhale, she stands and steps up onto the lip of the roof before she can talk herself out of this, and jumps. Knees bending up as she stretches an arm out and lets loose with a web. It connects, sticks and holds, and she feels the rush of adrenaline that always comes with the sensation of free-falling. Her body bows in midair as she swings, then curves around and up, and she kicks her legs into the air as she lets go. For an instant, she's flying, as the sky above her darkens and the city below inches towards slumber. Then she's falling and her instincts take over, and she alternates between arms as she swings over the city, trying to keep her pace even and as far away from eager as she can manage.

 

Because if there's one thing that can throw every one of her abilities into turmoil, it's Chloe. Something that's been proven time and time again.

 

She actually swings around to land soundlessly on the roof of her own house first, pressing her body flat against the shingles as she crawls to the side that overlooks Chloe's.

 

“ _I wonder if my dad could report me for loitering menacingly around my own house.”_ Ever since being bitten, Beca has found herself 'wondering' far more frequently than she ever used to. Which, she supposes, is only to be expected. _“It's not everyday a radioactive spider bite grants you superhuman abilities.”_ A good thing, in her books, because if there were multiple Beca's running around with similar power, well, she's honestly a little afraid of what that might look like.

 

Chloe's room is across from her own, their windows almost exactly aligned and the only ones on that side of the upper floor. Beca gets to her feet and backs up a few steps, before taking off with the kind of coordination she **wished** she'd had for gym class and launching herself across the gap between their houses. She lands with a soft 'thud' in the shadow of the tree that stretches up from the grass of Chloe's front lawn to block the light of the street lamp that would otherwise illuminate Beca. She walks towards the edge, to where she knows Chloe's window is, and pauses for a few seconds before walking back.

 

“ _Just, be cool. It's a totally normal day and there's no reason to freak out. It's Chloe.”_ Somehow, that doesn't help, and Beca feels her anxiety starting to take control of her movements. She's pacing now, full on, the material covering her feet making no sound against the roof. _“It's not like she's going to scream or call the cops. You've literally saved her life a bunch of times now. Doesn't that make us friends in some weird day? Not that she's like, indebted to me or whatever. And now I'm arguing with myself.”_ She sighs, running a gloved hand over the top of her mask. _“Because that's not the one step closer to crazy I never wanted.”_ There's another little voice at the back of her mind though, telling her to hurry up and get on with this before it falls asleep.

 

She drops to her knees just shy of the rain gutter and turns her upper to find the chimney behind her. She shoots a length of webbing out towards it, giving it an experimental tug once it's fixed and slowly threads more out as she lowers herself down. Face first so that the hood of her sweater falls to frame it and so she's dangling with her head directly outside of Chloe's window. Wide almond eyes reflecting the light and catching every miniscule movement.

 

Of Chloe's hips, as they shift and sway to the song that's playing through the stereo sitting on top of the redhead's dresser. A song she might be able to hear, if she'd focus. Only that's sort of impossible for her right now because Chloe's still moving and whatever song she's got on must have a wicked sexy beat. Beca grasps the webbing tighter in her hand and adjusts her feet where they're pressed into the brick above the window frame.

 

“ _This is creepy.”_ The only other part of her moving is her heart, thumping erratically in her chest. _“You're being creepy.”_ Her eyes remaining fixed on Chloe, who's folding her laundry, of all things, while she moves like **that**. _“You should stop. Or knock. Or do something other than stare like a horny boy with binoculars.”_ And she's just about to do one of those things, honest, when Chloe turns with a pair of underwear in hand – probably to put them away – and lets out a shrill cry that Beca has no trouble hearing at all. Behind her mask, she winces at the sound and waits for Chloe to collect herself. The redhead does, after a few moments spent with her hand pressed tight against her chest, and she approaches the window wearing an expression of what Beca's hopes is playful annoyance and not the real kind.

 

Because she's pretty sure being told off by a teenager is probably bad for a superhero's rep?

 

With a click and an audible 'whoosh', Chloe lifts the window and rests her hands on the ledge, leaning forward just a bit to scrutinized the human spider dangling before her.

 

“You realise that as the city's designated hero, you're supposed to protect its citizens, not terrorize them, right?” The thing is, Beca really doesn't mind when Chloe tells her off. Not that she'd ever admit it, or let the other girl see the smirk she's wearing.

 

“I don't actually recall reading that in the handbook.” She quips, enjoying the quick eyebrow raise and 'oh really' smile that Chloe throws her way.

 

“There's a handbook.”

 

“Of course there's a handbook!” Beca lays her incredulity on thick, just to see Chloe's smile widen. “How else would I know what I’m supposed to be doing?” Teeth anxiously worrying her lower lip, Chloe leans further out until their faces are only inches apart. Beca's fingers tense around the line of webbing.

 

“This is you knowing what you're doing?” And there's no way Chloe can see her eyes, but the instant Beca feels them widen, Chloe starts to laugh. She pushes herself off the windowsill and, after stowing the underwear in a drawer, turns back to the laundry basket.

 

Beca hangs in place for a few heartbeats, unsure of what to do or where to go next, until her desires get the better of her and she scurries around to crouch in the open window frame. She spends a few seconds trying to arrange herself into a casual position, before giving up and just settling with both her hands and feet against the sill, knees bent towards her shoulders.

 

“So,” Chloe begins again, turning down the volume on the stereo and pulling another pair of underwear out of the hamper. This time, a pale pastel-blue in colour. Beca exhales quietly and looks away. Around the room. At anything else. “You **are** a stalker.” Her gaze snaps back to Chloe.

 

“Excuse me?” She bristles, with all the bluster and indignity of someone caught doing something they shouldn't. Chloe pivots until she's facing her again and leans back against the dresser, regarding the costumed figure at her window with a wry smirk. “I...” the sight of which makes Beca falter, flounder for an instant, but it's long enough for Chloe to notice and let loose with another laugh, “am just making sure you're staying out of trouble.”

 

“Oh?” And every single one of Beca's spider-senses tingle when Chloe takes a step towards her. Then another, and another. “And what kind of trouble do you think I'm likely to get into in **my bedroom**?” Until her head is buzzing and she's in serious danger of swaying right out of the window and into the rose bushes on the ground below. There are some serious connotations being thinly vailed and Beca's having a hard time processing what's happening. Every fine hair on her body is standing on end, each one stretching, straining towards the redhead with the pretty smile as she closes in. And realistically, Beca knows she isn't about to lose her grip, but when Chloe holds her hand out she still finds herself taking it. Like some kind of offered lifeline that she'll drown without. “Or is that secretly why you're here?” For every ounce of super-strength she's gained, Chloe somehow matches it, and Beca finds herself being tugged down from the windowsill and into the room. Finds herself thinking that Chloe could probably have gotten her to do that, and like a lot more, with just a look. “To **make** some trouble?”

 

Her mask doesn't hide her sharp inhale, she knows it doesn't. Knows that it isn't just her enhanced hearing that catches it when Chloe's lips part and curve as she stops them in the centre of the room.

 

“I...” and why couldn't she have been blessed with the ability to form coherent sentences around Chloe? That would be way more useful to her right now. Sure, she could web her own mouth shut, but that should really be more of a last resort thing, right? Not her initial go-to every time she's around the redhead. “That isn't-” beyond the actual cotton she has pressed against her lips, she feels like her mouth is suddenly stuffed with it, and Chloe just stands there, hand still in hers, bright eyes twinkling as she lets the “Webbed Wonder” become a stumbling idiot in front of her, “that's not what I-”

 

“You are so damn easy, Mitchell.” It comes out as a low chuckle and Beca jerks her head back, automatically offended.

 

“And **you** -” but her comeback, as lacklustre as it was destined to be, fizzles away to nothing and dies on her lips and every muscle in Beca's body freezes. “Wait, what?” Except those that control her mouth, because that would be far too convenient. “What did you just-” Chloe's hand is leaving her and the redhead lifts it to Beca's mouth, pressing a finger to her lips over the mask. Baby-blues roll and a heavy sigh fills the room.

 

“You know,” beneath the material, Beca's skin twitches involuntarily as Chloe's fingers ghost along the side of her face, “I wasn't sure at first.” She scrunches her nose up and her red hair bounces as she shakes her head. “I didn't know right away or anything. You were just...” she tilts her head to the side, letting her hand fall to rest against Beca's shoulder, “always sort of **there** , you know?” And Beca hopes its rhetorical, because she finds herself utterly unable to answer. The sound of her heart beating over time pounds in her ears. “Just like you've sort of always been **here**.” That means something, Beca knows that much, but the enormity of this situation is proving too much for her spider-sized brain to handle. Circuits are shorting out all over, wires crossing and setting fires in parts of her brain that she's pretty sure are probably important.

 

“How long?” She croaks, surprising herself. Chloe bites her bottom lip as she thinks about it, releasing it with a smile when she finds an answer she likes.

 

“Well, I’ve known since you saved me from the Goblin. And from that creepy guy with all the arms.” Beca feels her lips twitch. “I knew that morning in the hallway when Bumper tried to trip you and ended up flat on his face.” And lift. “I wasn't sure when you saved me in the alley, but after I kissed you? I knew.” And stretch into a wide smile. “I just knew it was you after that.” Because of course. Of course Chloe has known and not said a word to anyone, to **Beca** , until now.

 

“You...”Beca finally remembers how to breathe and she pushes all the air from her lungs with that single word, before forcing herself to pause and take a deep breath in. “Are something else.” Chloe gives her a little half shrug, but her expression is the kind of smug that's helplessly endearing and Beca's stomach tumbles into a roll. _“That means she kissed_ _ **you**_ _, idiot. Not Spider-Man.”_

 

“And you're still hiding.” Chloe chides with a quiet, husky confidence and then she's filling Beca's vision until she's all the shorter girl can see. Which isn't all that big a change from Beca's usual. Chloe brings her other hand up and she rests one on either side of Beca's neck, against where the seam of the mask meets the neck of the costume. Dark eyes flicker and re-focus as Chloe swipes her tongue over her lower lip before opening her mouth. “Can I take this of yet?” Wordlessly, Beca nods.

 

Short nails brush along the skin of her neck as Chloe's thumbs slight under the material, hooking it and pushing up as Beca's breath hitches nervously in the back of her throat. There's no going back from this, no pretending. This is the kind of irrefutable evidence that Beca's been trying to hide, the kind that will probably land Chloe in trouble at some point, because Beca attracts bad news like Disneyland attracts tourists.

 

But she wants this. She wants Chloe to know, wants Chloe to **see** her.

 

She just wants Chloe.

 

The mask catches on the underside of her chin and Chloe giggles as she stretches the material over to reveal Beca's mouth, then her nose. Beca snakes a hand around to clutch at Chloe's hip, needing something to anchor herself in the moment as her head spins and the redhead's breath drifts over her face. Then she's closing her eyes as the mask wrinkles up and blinking them open again when Chloe's hands still.

 

“There you are.” Chloe whispers, and Beca doesn't have a word to describe the smile she sees she's wearing. It's all wondering and happy, excited and maybe even a bit emotional. And Beca feels herself blushing under the attention, feels her muscles want to shift, to move her away, but she grits her teeth and forces herself to flash an awkward smile.

 

“Hi.” It's tense and strained, and the laugh Chloe lets out at the sound of it almost floors her. Almost, because Chloe leans in and presses her lips to Beca's, and it grounds her. Turns her squeak of surprise into a sigh of relief that might embarrass her if she'd been conscious of it leaving her. Instead, she's focused on the way Chloe's mouth slants against hers, how her lips part and the soft but firm pressing of her tongue as it asks for entrance and then sinks into it once offered. Arms wind around Beca's neck, one hand pulling the mask the rest of the way off and tossing it aside. It tugs at her ponytail then, freeing it from where it's tucked into the back of the costume and releasing her hair from the tie she'd used to gather it up. Beca feels that get tossed aside too and she winds her arms around Chloe's waist, pulling her close as she smiles into the kiss.

 

It's only when Chloe nips at her lip that they break apart. Because the action catches Beca off guard and she jumps, hands twitching. And then feels the burning chill of mortification sweep over her as something to her right hits the floor and smashes. They turn their head simultaneously and see a mug, thankfully empty, lying in pieces on the floor, trapped there by inadvertently sprung sticky webbing.

 

When Chloe turns back to Beca, her face is red from holding in her laughter.

 

“Shut up.” Beca mumbles, and that's all it takes. Chloe's giggles carry out through the bedroom window and probably over into the next neighbourhood, but Beca doesn't really care.

 

Because Chloe's kisses pepper the in between moments, and Beca's never been able to stay mad at her anyway.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by an image of Spider-Man headphones that an anon sent me on tumblr.

* * *

 

"Are you serious?” She’s sitting high in one corner of Chloe’s bedroom, pressed into the juncture of wall and ceiling, a half unwrapped present held loosely between gloved hands. Her mask is off, lying almost forgotten where it had been carelessly tossed onto a perfectly made bed. Chloe stands below her, arms folded across her chest and winsome smile adorning her face, staring up at Beca and looking rather pleased with herself. “They’ve put my face on headphones now?”

 

“It’s a nice face.” Chloe says with a shrug, entirely too smug for Beca’s liking. Beca flashes a dirty look in her direction and then peels off the rest of the balloon patterned wrapping paper.

 

“Dude, I should have like patented my appears or something. Is this even legal?” She’s genuinely bemused by this and that only makes Chloe chuckle.

 

“You’re a public entity now, Bec.” Beca turns the headphones over in her hands and studies the twin pictures of her - well, Spider-Her - that have been pasted onto the backs of cups.

 

“Yeah, but they don’t own me.” And it isn’t as though she’s really bothered by it - okay, maybe a little, but it’s whatever at this point - it’s just weird. Seeing her face all over things. Even though it’s not really her face, more like her shadow, it’s there. For everyone to see.

 

“Nope.” Chloe’s chipper tone drags Beca’s attention back to where she’s standing. “You’re all mine.” Beca rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t have a mask to hide her smile right now and so Chloe knows she’s won this round. “Now, can you get down off my ceiling so I can give you a birthday kiss?” She drops soundlessly onto Chloe’s bed and sets the headphones down beside her as Chloe approaches.

 

“Since you’ve claimed ownership and should probably be able to do whatever you want,” Chloe cocks an eyebrow at this but Beca refuses to comment, “I feel like I should thank you for making me feel like I have a say in whether or not you get to kiss me.” Chuckling, Chloe takes Beca’s face in her hands.

 

“You are welcome.” She says slowly and Beca blinks at her.

 

“Oh no, I wasn’t actually saying thank you, I just-” Chloe shuts her up with a kiss.  


	7. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Anon prompt** \- Omg! I have a Spidermanau prompt or headcanon for you, whichever works. After Spidey gets all famous and stuff, Chloe forces Beca to celebrate her birthday with other people for once in her life. Then, in front of everyone, she gifts Beca with some Spider-Man themed undies
> 
>  **A/N** : In celebration of Beca Mitchell's Birthday!

* * *

Beca doesn’t  **do** birthdays. Not her own. She’s totally fine with other people’s, she’ll buy gifts - but doesn’t wrap them anymore because Chloe inevitably takes it right out of her hands and re-wraps the “shambles” Beca had been prepared to declare “good enough” - and she'll attend parties. She'll even sing Happy Birthday when they bring the cake out, though Chloe usually has to elbow her to get her to start. The thing about other people's is that it's only connected to her by a thin thread. There's very little emotional baggage attached to someone else's birthday.

 

Her own have been kind of a downer ever since her Mom died. She remembers what they used to be like; the day lives on in screaming technicolour in her mind up until her sixth year on this planet. She remembers balloon animals and brightly patterned wrapping paper, she remembers messy kitchens and cakes in the shapes of animals. She remembers her Mom's smile and the sound of her voice as she'd sing.

 

Her Dad had tried but he's never not been distant and when compared with her Mother, the difference between them felt like an ice age. Birthdays aren't happy and warm for Beca anymore, and it's fine. It's just how it is. She doesn't celebrate and the day passes like a chilly Winter evening, and then everything goes back to normal.

 

“You have people who love you, who want to celebrate you, you know, being alive.” But Chloe is the very opposite of a chilly Winter evening and there's not an ounce of 'normal' about her. “There's going to be presents...” And Beca wouldn't have it any other way.

 

She begrudgingly agrees, because Chloe's eyes are bright and the kind of sparkling blue that belongs nowhere outside of crystal clear Caribbean oceans, yet there they are in front of her. Smiling. And Chloe seems so happy, fit to burst with joy, at being allowed to do this for her that maybe, Beca thinks, this year won't be so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

 _ **P**_ _ **art**_ _ **y**_ _ **starts at six.**_ She'd gotten Chloe's message that afternoon and it's been there at the back of her mind ever since. Dragging her through classes and then throwing her a little harder into her swings once the educational part of her day was done. She dances between the rooftops, sweeping through the open spaces as she listens for any signs of a disturbance. The only trouble she runs across is a guy making off with a woman's purse, something she quickly puts a stop to by swinging up behind him and planting her feet into the back of his head. He sprawls face first, skidding along the pavement and cutting up his face, and she plucks the handbag from his limp grip, doing her best to ignore the camera phone flashes and gathering crowd. She jogs over to the woman who, after just being mugged, has stars in her eyes and is running a hand over her hair like she's making sure she looks presentable. It's enough to make Beca smirk behind her mask.

 

“I think this is yours,” she says, danging the purse by the strap from her finger. The woman takes it, stumbling over her thank yous and other exclamations of gratitude, and then Beca takes off. Running towards a jump that, with the help of her web, takes her back towards the city skyline.

 

It's fifteen minutes before six o'clock when the cars speeds by beneath her, two skidding police cars hot on its tail.

 

 _Of course._ She's sitting against the side of a building about three blocks from Chloe's apartment, body clinging to the brick as she watches the cars speed away. _Of course shit has to go down now._

 

She doesn't even have time to send Chloe a preemptive apology text.

 

* * *

 

“You're **late**.” Chloe's on her the second she's through the door, shoving Beca back against it with one hand against the brunette's collarbone. Beca lets out a grunt and stares at her girlfriend with wide eyes. “This is **your** party, Beca Mitchell, and you.” She pokes a finger hard against Beca's sternum once. “Are.” Twice. “Late.” And finally a third time.

 

“I'm **sorry** ,” Beca whispers, batting the hand away, “I was literally three blocks away forty-five minutes ago and then there was a car chase and a construction site, and I was almost buried in cement.” Chloe balks at that, taking a half-step back so that she can look Beca over. She doesn't look any worse for wear, which only makes Chloe wonder what kind of state her costume is going to be in, as well as the inside of the bag Beca's carrying it in.

 

“Are you okay?” Her voice is softer now, concerned, and she brings a hand to Beca's face.

 

“I'm fine.” Stormy eyes flutter as Chloe's thumb brushes over her cheek and Beca leans into the touch for a few heartbeats. “Really,” she adds, knowing Chloe always needs that extra assurance. “Is everyone here?” Chloe straightens, dropping her hand to grab one of Beca's, lacing their fingers together.

 

“Yup. **They** were on time.” She winks at Beca, who shrugs off her backpack and dumps it in the corner of the hallway before shooting Chloe a look.

 

“And you almost had a life-size concrete statue for a girlfriend.” Chloe wrinkles her nose and then she's pulling Beca into the living room, which erupts into a cheer of “Surprise!” the instant they enter. And Beca isn't sure what she'd been expecting – that's a lie, half of her had been worried Chloe was going to invite the whole apartment building and everyone in her address book – but there are only about a dozen people there. All faces she recognises, all people she knows and cares about, and has zero bad memories to associate them with.

 

It's like Chloe had known.

 

And, when she turns her head to look at her girlfriend, she realises that Chloe **had** known. Does know. She understands Beca better than anyone.

 

So, Beca doesn't really think about it when she gives the redhead's hand a tug, jerking her over and tugging a chuckle from her as their lips meet. There's a chorus of whoops and hollers, then Beca pulls back, blushing slightly. It darkens when she catches sight of Chloe staring at her dreamily.

 

As promised, there are presents. A small pile of them in fact, and once Beca has been spoken to every person there and drinks have been handed out, Chloe sits her down in the sinfully plush armchair that she and Beca had picked up at a flea market their first month in the apartment.

 

She gets a few new shirts, most of which are from Aubrey, which Beca can't help but feel is some sort of dig at her current wardrobe. Stacie's gift is a bottle of wine with an envelope attached to it. Inside is a birthday card and a gift certificate for a 'Couple's Session' at a spa down town. Beca thinks Chloe might be even more excited about that one than she is. Benji's present is an unassuming blank piece of paper and Beca holds it up, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. He gives her a shy smile and then reaches forward to pluck the paper from her hand. With a twist of his wrist and a flourish of his fingers, the piece of paper turns into two and when he hands them back Beca sees that they're concert tickets. She squeals at the name on them and all but throws them at Chloe in her excitement. She tells him that they've been sold out for months and demands to know how he got them. All he does is wink and tell her “magic”, and she rolls his eyes as Emily, his girlfriend, laughs and kisses his cheek. Fat Amy's gift is an 'IOU' with an apology attached that reads: _I bought you a vibrator as a gag gift, but Chloe wouldn't let me give it to you in front of people. So sorry, but not my fault._ She's never been so thankful for the redhead in that moment.

 

Jesse buys her chocolate and socks, which isn't as strange as everyone else seems to think. It's sort of a thing between them. Every year she buys him a calendar with half naked women dressed as sexy orchestra conductors and a pair of boxers.

 

There are a handful of other gifts before Chloe sets a small package in her lap. It's squishy and light, and Beca pokes the wrapping for a good ten seconds before Chloe slaps her shoulder and tells her to get on with it. She smiles and starts to peel back the layers. When the contents is exposed, Beca's cheeks burn brightly for two reasons.

 

The first being the fact that she's just unwrapped underwear from her girlfriend in front of a room of people who don't need to know what she's wearing underneath her clothes. The second, well, _Jesus Christ_.

 

“Spider-Man underwear?” Beca swivels her gaze around until she's looking up at Chloe, perched on the arm of the chair, through long lashes. Chloe isn't even trying to hide her glee.

 

“There's more than one,” she says and Beca lifts the first pair of brief-style panties to reveal a second, then a third. All of which have Beca's **face** or monogram on them. The last pair has Beca's face surrounded by little purple hearts.

 

“I didn't know you were a fan of the web-head.” Cynthia Rose intones and Beca's about two seconds away from making some scathing comment to insinuate that she isn't when Chloe pipes up.

 

“Oh, totes. Beca's like... a big time fan.” And if it weren't for the way Chloe's practically glowing with glee, Beca might consider wanting to slap her. But all she can actually think about doing is kissing her and calling her a dork. So she does that instead. “This isn't your real present, by the way,” Chloe murmurs once they part. Beca narrows her eyes at her and Chloe leans in close to whisper in her ear. “Once the party's done and everyone else is gone, I’m going to go into the bedroom and get myself ready for a thorough unwrapping.” She pulls back with a peck to Beca's cheek and Beca feels the air turn thin around her. “Oh, but you have to wear one of these.” She tugs at the elastic of one of the pairs of underwear. “Maybe the blue and purple ones, with the insignia,” she says, then lowly adds, “maybe I’ll make you wear the costume too.”

 

And by the time the night is over, late night stretching lazily toward early morning, Beca doesn't think birthdays are so bad after all. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My "Merry Christmas" to the fandom! Or, more specifically, the SpideyBeca AU loving side of the fandom. ;)

* * *

She has limited time. Which, in her line of work, is nothing new. She's always on some kind of schedule or being forced to adhere to some sort of time frame. It is, quite frankly, exhausting and so she's currently taking a shortcut through the park to save a few precious minutes.

 

“Coming through! Watch out!” A park that is surprisingly well populated considering the time of year and the temperature. She dodges right through the middle of a snowball fight, catching a wayward frosty missile in the leg. There's a guy kneeling behind an almost complete defensive snow wall with his young son and they both look towards her when she yells.

 

“Hey!” The dad calls after her. “Merry Christmas, Spidey!”

 

“You too, dude and little dude!” She throws a salute back at them as she swings away, using the leafless trees and street lamps to propel herself forwards. It's nice, the whole 'getting less crap from people' thing. It was rough there for a while, thanks to a certain internet news site with borderline obsessive vendettas against her that, seriously, had zero ground for persecution. Everything she did, they twisted into something villainous. The time she tangled with Kommissar the Hunter? “Spider-Man: Hunted or **Hunter**? We've got all the deets on Spidey's illicit liaisons with the city's most wanted criminal!” Like she'd have gone anywhere near Kommissar's stupid, perfect, Greek Goddess-worthy face. It was ridiculous. As was the idea that she'd get involved with anyone hell bent on terrorizing the city. **Her** city. She's so not that kind of girl.

 

Also, she's like, totally spoken for. So spoken for in fact, that it's really more of a yell or a scream. Beca shakes her head as she thinks it, a little bit giddy from the thought itself, and cartwheels through the air and over the tall, iron gates leading to and from the park. Amy says it's gross, how in love they still are after all this time, but Beca thinks it's pretty awesome. Chloe's her constant, her comfort and courage. Without Chloe, Beca, in all likelihood, wouldn't still be wearing her suit. And she certainly wouldn't be wearing the insulated version that Chloe had helped make. And by helped, Beca of course means 'made pretty much entirely by herself while Beca loomed over her shoulder and tried to distract her from the sewing machine'.

 

They're a team and honestly, Beca can't imagine how her life might have turned out if Chloe hadn't been the girl living next door to her.

 

She'd be a lot colder, that's for sure.

 

“ _In more ways than one.”_ She laughs into the material of her mask, then lets out a groan as she swings into a side street and uses the buildings on either side to climb higher towards the winter-white sky. _“I should get some crackers for that cheese. That was gross.”_ But she's still smiling as she flips onto the roof of an office building she recognises but doesn't know the name of and stands to survey her surroundings. She unzips the hidden pocket within the pocket of her hoodie and pulls out her cellphone to check the time. There's a message from Chloe waiting for her and she uses the special little pad affixed to the thumb of her glove to navigate the touch screen.

 

_**Hey, Marcus let me leave early. :) I’ll stop and pick up something for dinner on my way home. Chinese?** _

 

“Crap.” Beca stuffs the phone back in her pocket and only gets it zipped halfway before she's **throwing** herself off of the roof. Head bowed towards the ground and arms flat against her sides, she free-falls for a few seconds, trying to decide on the quickest route to take, then shoots out a string of webbing to the right. Her body snaps around in that direction in a manner that would have probably given any normal person whiplash, but she rolls with the motion. Or, swings with it. _“Of_ _ **course**_ _she gets off early today. Of_ _ **course**_ _I had to take the time to get that girl's stupid cat out of that stupid tree._ She goes on in that fashion for three whole city blocks, muttering silently to herself and griping about things that can't be changed, like how time is the true arch-enemy of any superhero.

 

There's only one place in the whole city where Chloe trusts with her Chinese food. She says everywhere else tastes wrong and while that never fails to make Beca roll her eyes and smile, she can't argue that The Green Dragon is probably the best she's ever had. Chloe wants them to cater their wedding, “whenever you get around to asking.”

 

That last thought makes Beca smile as she finally makes it onto the block where The Green Dragon is situated. Truth be told, she'd bought a ring about a month ago after spotting the **perfect** one whilst foiling a robbery in a jewellery store on the opposite side of the city. It had been sitting in what she was fairly certain was the only display case to go unscathed and she had taken that as a sign, returning two weeks later when they reopened after fixing the damages.

 

But that little box was staying right where it was; sequestered inside a pouch of webbing and stuck to the underside of Beca's desk in the far corner. Chloe didn't like to mess with Beca's laptop and that is where Beca's laptop lives, so it's the perfect hiding spot. It's staying there because she flat out refuses to be one of those people who **proposes** over Christmas.

 

“ _Ugh,”_ she thinks to herself, flicking her wrist in the direction of the brightly painted yellow building that was Chloe's destination, _“so tacky.”_ She kicks her legs out to send her straightforward swing into a curve so that she can land against the wall above the window at the front of the store. Back flat against it and feet and hands pressed against solid brick, Beca watches a few people walk by beneath her. There's a boy who looks too young to be out alone approaching and she makes a high hissing sound to get his attention. “Hey, kid.” He looks up and Beca almost laughs at the way his mouth falls open. He points to himself, dumbfounded, and Beca bobs her head. “Yeah, you. C'mere.” He takes a few steps closer. “Can you look in through the window and tell me if you see a woman with red hair in there?” The boy frowns, but does as he's told and surveys the inside of The Green Dragon for all of three seconds before looking back up at Beca.

 

“I see her! I mean, I see someone with red hair. A lady.”

 

“She pretty?” Beca asks and he glances back through the window, then nods. “She is, huh.” Beca's sigh is almost wistful and she loses herself in thought long enough that the kid's had time to pull out his cellphone.

 

“Hey, can I get a picture with you?” Beca tilts her head to the side.

 

“Dude, how old are you? Why do you even have a cellphone?”

 

“So my parents can get a hold of me.” The 'duh' is silent, but Beca hears it. She narrows her eyes behind the oval lenses of her mask. “Please? My friends won't believe this if I don't show them.”

 

“Tell you what,” Beca takes one hand off of the wall and points at the end of the street, “you wait at the bus stop for me and I’ll come find you in like, five minutes. Ten tops. I just have something I need to do first and it's kind of a surprise.”

 

“For the pretty redhead?” The boy questions with a grin and Beca chuckles.

 

“You got it.” He does as instructed, calling back excitedly to her as he goes about how he'll stay put until she gets there and Beca turns to crawl up the front of the building. She hops over the edge of the roof and peers over, waiting for Chloe to exit. It doesn't take long and before she knows it, Beca hears the little bell above the door jingle, bidding all those that pass through a hello and farewell. She sets off in the opposite direction of where Beca had sent the boy and Beca scurries along above her, keeping pace until just before Chloe reaches the second to last building on the block, then Beca leaps. Shooting twin strands of web across both rooftops, she heaves back before rocketing forward. She stretches an arm out and plants her hand against a metal air vent, flipping herself over the two-foot high cement lip and onto the top of the lamppost sitting at the corner of the sleepy intersection. With one hand spitting web balls onto the metal, she reaches back into her secret pocket with the other and pulls out the second thing she'd had hidden in there, clutching it tightly as she drops her body forward. She shoots a line into the mass of webbing to secure herself and, once she's got enough length, uses every muscles she's got to turn her body around so that she's hanging upside down. Knees bent and feet resting against the deceptively strong, silky-looking strand, Beca slowly lowers herself to just above average head-height and counts to five.

 

Or tries to. She only makes it to three before Chloe turns the corner and almost shrieks when she sees Beca hanging there.

 

“Oh my god!” She lifts the hand carrying the lighter of the two bags she's holding to her chest and glares at Beca. “You scared the crap out of me!”

 

“What have I told you about not paying attention to your surroundings?” Beca counters, cocksure and with a reproving tut just desperate to leap from her lips.

 

“What have I told **you** about doing **this**?” Chloe gestures at Beca, the lamppost, and Beca's overall positioning. “I don't want you doing it at home and I certainly don't want you doing it where I can make a public embarrassment of myself.”

 

“It's totally fine, you're cute when you're flustered.”

 

“I swear to god-”

 

“Oh, stop it. I do this every year and you love it,” Beca interrupts, retracting the hand she'd left inside her hoodie pocket and reaching out to bob Chloe on the head with the sprig of mistletoe she's holding in it. “You, love, me.” Each word is punctuated with a feather-light festive smack and Chloe looks like she would really rather like to smack her back.

 

“Remind me again why?”

 

“Because I do romantic shit like this. That you love.” Chloe's response is a low hum. “And I know there's no rain,” her drops the volume of her voice, “I know you love re-enacting our first kiss.” She holds the mistletoe over Chloe's head but Chloe doesn't move.

 

“You're not under it,” she says after a few seconds and Beca cocks her head like she doesn't understand.

 

“What?”

 

“You're not,” Chloe points to the sprig, “under it. You have to be beneath the mistletoe in order for it to be a proper mistletoe kiss.” She knows Chloe can't see her eyes behind the lenses, but Beca blinks at her slowly in spite of that.

 

“Are you secretly the Christmas Police?” She asks and Chloe rolls her eyes in a manner that silently screams 'Beca'.

 

“Every year,” she sighs and it's so heavy and deep, like she's living with some great personal pain, “you do this every single year.” Beca's laughter comes out muffled but audible.

 

“If you'd just give up being a stickler for the specifics and just-” this time, Beca cuts herself off by laughing at the way Chloe's face almost turns as red as her hair. “I'm kidding! I'm kidding. Please don't be like, actually angry.” With that, she lifts the mistletoe until she's holding it in front of her chest and eases herself down until she's face to face with Chloe. “You know I love you, right?” She knows it works the instant Chloe's expression softens. Melts away like snow in June. She puts the plastic bags down on the ground, a spot that is relatively free of snow, and lifts her hands to Beca's face.

 

“You know you owe me extra Christmas morning cuddles for this, right?” And when Chloe carefully peels back the mask, Beca is smiling.

 

“The life of a superhero is exhausting,” she murmurs, then says nothing more when Chloe's lips cover her own. And it's all kinds of gross and tacky, but _“You're my gift every year”_ drifts through her mind like it's poetry or something worthy of being etched in stone and it only quits repeating itself when Chloe pulls back with a pleased hum.

 

“Play your cards right and later maybe I'll show you how to **really** exhaust a superhero.” With that, Chloe tugs Beca's mask back into place, pats her cheek and picks up the bags. “I'll see you at home.” And she leaves Beca hanging, not for the first time, grinning like an idiot behind purple fabric.

 

She almost forgets about the boy altogether, but makes good on her promise in the end. His arms aren't long enough to take a decent photograph though, so she take the phone, bends down, and snaps one off herself. When he takes the phone back, he looks at it like she's just imbued it with holy powers, and she leaves him with a “stay in school” and a hasty salute that she fires off as she's already halfway into the air.

 

She's got a pretty redhead to get home to. 


	9. Hang In There, Chloe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff I felt like writing!

* * *

Beca finds this fun. She has multiple reasons why she shouldn't, but the fact remains. She thinks it's hilarious. Thinks **she's** hilarious. For what it's worth, Jesse agrees. Benji does not.

 

She'll be totally fine hanging out somewhere one minute, then the idea will enter her head and it's like she can't help herself.

 

Chloe does not find it amusing. Chloe calls her a child and shrieks and slaps, and all Beca can do is laugh.

 

See, it really isn't her fault. If Chloe's reaction wasn't so fantastically dramatic, Beca would have probably quit a long time ago. But the force of Chloe's reaction hasn't waned in the slightest, and so neither has Beca's desire to just **keep doing it**.

 

It's not Beca's fault that Chloe likes to leave her bedroom window open. She's told her girlfriend countless times that it isn't safe, that any old creep in a mask or, ugh, **cape** could come crawling through. But Chloe only ever rolls her eyes. Never listens.

 

It's an easy in. All Beca has to do is stick to the shadows and climb the wall to the second story window. A feat made much, much easier thanks to that nasty little spider bite she'd received. Sure, she could maybe have scaled the drain pipe before. Maybe. She's never been great with upper body strength.

 

Now though, now she can toss a car over her head, should the need arise. Which it rarely does, but she likes knowing her skill set.

 

She makes quick work of the climb, lifting the window all the way open with one hand and flipping her body into the room head-first. She rolls smoothly across the carpeted floor, barely making a sound, and lands solidly on her feet.

 

Straightening, she walks back to the window and lowers it until it's in more or less the same position it was before she entered. Then she turns on her heel and surveys Chloe's room.

 

It's already dark outside, so majority of the space is blanketed in shadow. But Beca knows every inch, has been inside this room multiple times, and could probably navigate it with her eyes closed.

 

There's so much of Chloe littered about. The essence of her, all the little things that make her the big, bold, brilliant person that she is.

 

Beca loves Chloe's room.

 

But she isn't here to stare. Chloe will be home any minute and Beca needs to assume the position.

 

She crawls up the far wall and settles into the shadows congregating at the corner of the ceiling. Her feet are planted flat against the wall, her knees bent, and she drums her hands against the tops of them soundlessly as she waits.

 

Cars pass by outside. She hears them, the whoosh of air as they streak by the house, and frowns because some sound like they're going faster than they should.

 

After a short while, she hears the front door open downstairs and feels the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand at attention.

 

It's a different kind of spider-sense that she feels whenever Chloe is near. It doesn't warn of danger or impending doom. It's like excitement, only heightened, and Beca grins beneath her mask as she hears Chloe ascending the stairs, humming to herself.

 

The bedroom door opens inward, the door itself partly shielding Beca from view, and Chloe closes it again with one hand, not looking back. Like always. She hums her way towards her closet, slipping out of her jacket, and Beca holds her breath and she very slowly and carefully twists around to crawl across the ceiling.

 

Chloe opens the closet door and reaches for a hanger, slipping it under the shoulders of her jacket as Beca releases a thin line of webbing and silently flips herself upside down to dangle from it headfirst.

 

She lowers herself until she's at Chloe's eye level, head pointed toward the floor and knees bent so that the soles of her feet touch around the webbing. She's got both hands wrapped around the line, holding herself steady as she watches Chloe move her other clothes aside to fit the jacket into the wardrobe. Then she closes the door and Beca steels herself as Chloe begins to turn around.

 

"Careful!" Beca whispers, in a harsh, high-pitched tone, and Chloe lets out a shriek of surprise. With one hand pressed flat against her chest, the redhead glares up at her, breaths coming quick and short. Then, in a too-serious-to-actually-be- taken-seriously voice, Beca adds, "there's a spider dangling **right** in front of you." She's grinning behind her mask; Chloe looks less than amused. Possibly slightly murderous.

 

"Don't **do** that!!" Chloe yells, shoving Beca and sending her spinning in a circling on her line. Beca laughs as she turns. "Every time!! Every time I tell you not to do that!! Why do you keep doing it?!" Chloe releases a guttural groan of frustration and stomps her foot. Actually stomps it.

 

"That's why," Beca manages to squeeze out through her laughter, still circling. Chloe definitely put some strength behind the shove. During one of her rotations, she catches sight of Chloe's pout and the way she's folded her arms across her chest.

 

"I hate you." The words are muttered and sullen, like those of a child who has just been told they can't have ice cream before dinner.

 

Beca's laughter bubbles down to a few chuckles and she reaches up towards the top of her line of webbing, pulling herself the right way up. She lands softly on both feet, turning to face Chloe.

 

"No you don't," is her easy argument, and Chloe scowls at her.

 

"I do," she insists, jutting the point of her chin in Beca's direction. "Take off that mask so I can slap your face."

 

Beca chuckles again, hanging her head as she shakes it. But she does as she's told, simultaneously pulling it off from the front and untucking her hair from the neck of the suit. With her still gloved hands, she tries to smooth out wayward strands, glancing up at Chloe through her lashes, a small smirk shifting her mouth to one side.

 

Chloe bites her lip, frowning at Beca.

 

"Go on, then," Beca goads, watching as Chloe's brilliant blue eyes flash with her challenge. "Hit me with your best-"

 

She sees Chloe's hand rise in slow motion, her other, non-Chloe-centric spider-sense turning the dial down to slo-mo. It's a neat trick, one that's saved her life more than a few times. But there's no real danger here.

 

With reflexes that would make Daredevil jealous – not that she'd want to, Matt's great – Beca flicks her wrists and catches Chloe's hands with duel splashes of webbing. Still holding the ends of the lines, she executes a quick flip and twist over Chloe's head, landing behind her with the lines crossed and Chloe's hands effectively trapped against her own body.

 

Beca presses up close to Chloe's back, holding tight to the lines of web and tugging Chloe back against her. She hears the redhead gasp and rests her chin on Chloe's shoulder. Nosing red hair aside, she presses feather-light kisses to the pale skin of Chloe's neck. Hears her whimper, sees her pulse point flutter, and feels the body against hers press back into her.

 

"Well," Beca murmurs against her skin, " **now** what are you going to do?" She continues with her kisses, waiting for Chloe to collect herself.

 

And Beca finds this fun. Enjoys all of this. Each and every aspect. Because it invariably ends the same exact way.

 

Chloe sucks in a breath of air and shifts enough to get the message across that she wants to move, to turn. Beca allows her enough slack to do that, unwinds her even, but keeps her close, and then they're face to face.

 

"Why don't you take the rest of that costume off," Chloe practically purrs, hands rising to rest on Beca's shoulders, "and let me show you?"

 

Chloe kisses her, slow and deep, and Beca doesn't need to be swinging close to the clouds to feel like she's flying.


End file.
